


Sampratti

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Baahubali fics [2]
Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Oneshot, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: One son’s blood on your hands.The other son’s arrow in your back.Thiswill be your legacy.





	Sampratti

**Author's Note:**

> Title means “legacy” in Hindi. Set while Sivagami is carrying Mahendra by the river.

When you strode into the throne room all those years ago, sari snapping like a banner in the wind, your hair askew (you wore it down then), you never imagined this would be your legacy. That night, so many vows and promises were made, and with the iron of idealism welded in your spine, you believed -- you _knew_ \-- you would fulfill them all.

Still tender from giving birth a few weeks before, you slit a man’s throat right there in open court and then with that same hand, soothed your crying child ( _what if you had never parried that blow where would this world be today)_. You wore a crown that did not belong to you, either by blood or by marriage, that you had wrested with nothing more than the strength of your will, and held your head up high under that crown.

People trembled at the mention of your name; you knew it and took great pride in being the anchor of Mahishmati.

Now you are stumbling through caves and over bushes, dripping blood in every step, a fugitive from your own kingdom. You are still in so many ways that girl who was forged from steel: a steel that has fortified Mahishmati, a steel that has strangled it.

Here is the fruit of all your pains and struggles, everything you have worked to accomplish.

One son’s blood on your hands.

The other son’s arrow in your back.

Your daughter-in-law trapped in the coils of a cobra that you helped to wind.

The realm ready to be razed and ravaged.

_Oh Rajmata, what have you done?_

All that is left to you is this squalling bundle, not yet one day old and already fatherless and half-motherless and a hunted refugee and an infant king, all at your command. Is _this_ the legacy you leave him?

No, no it shall not be.

But what other legacy could you possibly bequeath upon him? What legacy is left to build, when all you can do is stagger towards some hazy, undefined, impregnable redemption?

**Author's Note:**

> Um... so yeah, this came out because I have a lot of feels about Sivagami, whom I simultaneously love to pieces and also want to grab and shake vigorously by the shoulders for the rest of her life. In particular, I cannot help but wonder what it must have been like to be walking by that river, knowing how deeply you had failed at everything you ever wanted to do. Ensue angsty, guilt-ridden second POV!


End file.
